


uncover my heart

by Suicix



Category: GOT7
Genre: Body Worship, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Content, Sweet/Hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 14:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12843357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suicix/pseuds/Suicix
Summary: Like this, Jackson forgets all the stress, forgets everything that isn’t Jinyoung’s hands and Jinyoung’s mouth and Jinyoung’s body. Forgets everything that isn’t him and Jinyoung.





	uncover my heart

**Author's Note:**

> this is set at some nebulous point during 7for7 promotions and i wrote it because of parts of their got2day 2017, though it isn't set on that particular day. (i still can't believe these two blessed us with a whole twenty-two minute long video wow thanks)

It’s got to the point where Jackson can’t not be conscious of it. They’re in the back of the car on the way back from today’s schedule, and every so often, Jinyoung glances across at him, his gaze lingering for long enough that it’s noticeable. Eventually, Jackson has to pause his music, has to turn to look at him.

“What is it?” he asks, and when he gets a proper look at Jinyoung’s face, he seems – concerned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jinyoung doesn’t answer, just narrows his eyes some more. Like he’s considering something, assessing it. It makes Jackson feel uneasy, makes him feel like Jinyoung knows something he doesn’t. And sure, maybe a lot of the time Jinyoung _does_ know something he doesn’t, but this has him on edge.

“Jackson,” Jinyoung says eventually, blinking as he does, but when he opens his eyes again, the eye contact somehow feels all the more intense. All the more unnerving. “Are you OK?”

“OK?” Now it’s Jackson’s turn to frown. “What do you mean, am I OK? Of course I am – why would you ask that?”

“Hm.” It’s not a real answer, but at least Jinyoung looks away for a moment. “I’m just wondering, I guess. Just wanted to make sure.” He reaches across and covers one of Jackson’s hands with his own.

“I said, I’m fine. I’d tell you if there was something up, you know I would.” It’s the truth. Some of the time – maybe even most of the time – Jackson doesn’t even need to be asked (at least, when it comes to Jinyoung). If there actually is something wrong, he’s usually quick to let it out and complain to Jinyoung, or Jinyoung’s quick to get him to talk about it and offer advice. Right now, there isn’t anything in particular he can think of that he’d need to talk about like that. Nothing specific, even if maybe, he does feel a little – off. Perhaps Jinyoung _is_ on to something, even if it isn’t anything in particular. Just the general stress that comes with the comeback season and its lack of sleep. Yeah, that’s it. That’s all it is. It’s just what happens every time.

Jinyoung doesn’t say anything in response – just nods briskly, like he’s satisfied with that, but moments later and he’s breaking the silence.

“I just worry, you know? Like… the other day, when you were talking about how you think you need to lose weight. You don’t. You need to be healthy, and you can’t do that if you don’t eat.”

“Green tea’s healthy,” Jackson says, trying not to sound petulant, and he isn’t looking at Jinyoung, but he swears he can feel the eye roll radiating from him. What is it to Jinyoung if he wants to diet? It’s his body, his choice to make. He’ll look all the better for it, making it something that Jinyoung’s going to benefit from as well, so why should he complain? Jackson doesn’t know. If it has an effect on him mentally, he can hide that. No-one has to know.

“Not when it’s practically all you consume. Not when it’s bad for your actual health condition, which really should be your priority considering that–”

“Jinyoung,” Jackson interrupts, warning in his tone. He doesn’t want to talk about it. “Don’t.”

And Jinyoung doesn’t.

“OK,” he says instead, but his hand tightens on Jackson’s, fingers warm where they’re curled around Jackson’s hand to rest on his palm. “I’m sorry.”

Jackson just nods. He knows Jinyoung means well. Knows, somewhere deep in the back of his mind, that Jinyoung’s most probably right.

“It’s OK. I know you only say it because you care. I’m just – frustrated, I guess.” Jackson doesn’t elaborate.

(He _could_ elaborate, though, now that he thinks about it. He considers the shape the rest of the year will take: the rest of the group in Japan without him, touring to support an album he doesn’t feature on. Sure, he’ll have his own things to occupy himself with, but something about not being there hurts. The others will come back, and there’ll be jokes he isn’t in on, memories he didn’t share, and if there’s one thing Jackson can’t stand, it’s feeling like he isn’t a part of something. He’ll have to keep himself busy so he doesn’t think about it too much. He _knows_ part of why he can’t be there is so he can rest, but he doesn’t want to. He has to be working, or he feels inadequate. Feels like he’s wasting his time, his life. Even now, when they’re promoting, it doesn’t feel like he’s doing enough. Tonight, he’ll probably end up in his studio, trying to get the song he’s working on at the moment as close to finished as he can before passing out after however long it takes. Yeah, that sounds like a plan – maybe, if he works hard enough, he’ll finally manage to get it done.)

He’s barely even decided that that’s what he’s going to do when it gets interfered with.

“What if,” Jinyoung starts to say, disturbing the quiet yet again, “I stayed at your place tonight?”

Jackson considers. He misses being able to climb into bed beside Jinyoung whenever he wants, misses having a warm body beside his and arms around him. It was so easy back at the dorm, and suddenly, it’s starting to look like the most appealing thought that Jackson’s ever had. Maybe that song can wait until tomorrow night. Maybe he deserves to relax for once, just for one evening. It’s not like Jinyoung will want to hear any other answer from him, anyway, so he might as well accept the offer.

“Sure,” he says after a moment, and Jinyoung smiles. “You can stay.”

Luckily, that’s where they’re heading first, so there’s no need to alert the driver until they arrive. Really, it would be much more convenient for Jinyoung to share a car with the others who still live at the dorm, but it means a lot to Jackson that Jinyoung’s willing to go out of his way to spend more time with him. Their hands stay joined for the rest of the journey.

When the car stops outside Jackson’s building, they both get out. Jinyoung’s been here a few times before, but not as often as Jackson would like. There’s a change of clothes for him in the room where Jackson’s own clothes are, but he hasn’t had to use it yet.

They head inside, and Jackson has no idea what to expect of tonight: Jinyoung coming here was his own idea, after all. Maybe (hopefully) they’ll have sex, maybe they won’t. Maybe they’ll just end up curled together in Jackson’s bed without a more intimate prelude. Whatever they do, Jackson just hopes there’s something Jinyoung can eat in the refrigerator or one of the cupboards. He can go without himself, wasn’t planning on having anything, but he wouldn’t look good as a boyfriend or a host if he were to let Jinyoung go hungry. He’s about to go and investigate the kitchen when he notices Jinyoung looking intently at something on his phone. Jackson peers over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of what it is.

“What are you doing?” On the screen, Jackson sees pictures of food and names of food and lists of prices. _Oh._

“Ordering us something to eat,” says Jinyoung, and Jackson can’t pretend he doesn’t notice the word _us._ “What do you want?”

“Whatever,” Jackson says, shrugging. Part of it is because he doesn’t want to think about it (about food, about the fact that his stomach’s growling at him to eat something after a long day when he’s been so good about it recently), but part is because he trusts Jinyoung to order for him, to know what he likes. “I don’t care.”

“Whatever I get you, you’re eating it,” Jinyoung warns him, like that’s final, and it’s met with another shrug. Maybe Jackson will. Maybe it will live in his fridge for another day, until he feels faint enough to justify eating it.

They head to the couch, and when the food arrives, that’s where they eat. And Jackson _does_ eat, thank you very much, knowing he should even though he feels like he shouldn’t. Still, it makes Jinyoung smile and nod at him – gets a proud look on Jinyoung’s face even if it’s only something small, something Jackson should be doing everyday anyway. It feels good to come home and have something warm, something that isn’t one of the imported bottles of iced green tea stacked up in his refrigerator. When Jackson had muttered something about going to the kitchen to get one, Jinyoung firmly told him no. Not tonight. Jackson offers to pay for both their food – they’re at his, after all, and just getting him to eat pretty much counts as a favour – but Jinyoung refuses to let him, says it’s his treat.

Jinyoung also helps him tidy up when they’re done eating, and they end up on the sofa again afterwards, sitting closer together than they were before. Jackson finds himself leaning against Jinyoung’s shoulder with a hand on Jinyoung’s thigh, almost crossing into the kind of affection they can’t quite get away with on a broadcast or elsewhere in public. Still, here, in the privacy of Jackson’s apartment, they can do whatever they want. Jackson can tilt his head to find Jinyoung’s mouth with his own, can let their lips press together and kiss Jinyoung like they have all the time in the world or like the apocalypse will be upon them in hours’ time. Anything. Whatever they want.

So that’s what Jackson does: he leans in and kisses Jinyoung, parting his lips and letting himself have everything, letting himself simply taste Jinyoung and the heat of his mouth. There’s a hint of the food he ate, something just a bit too spicy for Jackson, but when one of Jinyoung’s hands is firm and steady and centring on his shoulder, he can’t quite bring himself to care. Instead, Jackson just lets the kiss deepen, hand clutching more tightly at Jinyoung’s thigh. He feels breathless when they break apart, but he still goes right back in for more, more and more and more like it’s what’s keeping him alive, like if he goes without it for longer than a few seconds, his heart will stop beating. Like this, Jackson forgets all the stress, forgets everything that isn’t Jinyoung’s hands and Jinyoung’s mouth and Jinyoung’s body. Forgets everything that isn’t him and Jinyoung.

“Maybe we should move this,” Jinyoung says after a while (and Jackson’s eyes are on his mouth as he does, unable to look anywhere else), gesturing between the two of them with a finger, “somewhere else. Before we get too into it. Your bedroom.”

“Oh? What’s wrong with out here?”

“Out here is fine, but not for tonight. I want you laid out on the bed for me. Wanna see all of you, want to touch all of you. Want you to be able to relax properly.” Jinyoung stands, holding out a hand to Jackson. “Shall we?”

That sounds – good. Very good. Jackson takes his hand and leads the way. He’ll let Jinyoung take charge when they’re in there – let Jinyoung touch him however he wants to, because it’ll most likely be how he wants to be touched, too – but it’s his apartment: he should act like the host.

Practically the moment they make it into the room and the light’s been switched on, he’s on the bed with his back against the pillows, somewhere between sitting and lying down.

“You wanted me like this, right?” he asks, smirking, and Jinyoung nods, straddling him, leaning in to kiss him.

“I want you in so many ways,” Jinyoung says when they break apart, his lips still brushing against Jackson’s if only barely. “But for tonight, yes. I want you like this.”

Another kiss, one hand in Jackson’s hair and the other cupping his face. This time when Jinyoung pulls away, his mouth moves to Jackson’s cheeks, to his jaw, to his neck. All the while he’s murmuring to Jackson in between kisses, the words sweet-soft-loving and his breath warm on Jackson’s skin. It’s so easy to get absolutely lost in it, in Jinyoung’s words and his touch and the press of his mouth. Jackson aches for more when Jinyoung breaks the contact, when he moves back a little.

“Off,” Jinyoung says simply, pulling at the hem of Jackson’s t-shirt, and Jackson does as he says, pulling his top off over his head. Jinyoung’s eyes seem to gleam the moment the t-shirt’s been tossed to the floor, and he ducks back in for another kiss so quickly that it’s almost overwhelming. Jackson makes a muffled noise against Jinyoung’s mouth, surprised.

The kiss itself, however, is slow and deep and hungry – a hot slide of tongue that Jackson swears clears his mind of any thoughts that aren’t this very moment. He only manages to think of something else when Jinyoung’s mouth is gone from his, but then Jinyoung’s kissing his collarbones, his chest, and he’s back under the surface again. Jinyoung’s mouth grazes down Jackson’s sternum, and then moves across to a nipple. There, his lips are replaced with tongue, slick heat that makes Jackson shudder and groan. After a while, he kisses across to the other one and does the same, occasionally glancing up to meet Jackson’s gaze.

“Jinyoung,” Jackson breathes, awestruck. He sounds a little stupid to his own ears, feels like he’s incapable of any other words, but Jinyoung doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t reply – can’t with his mouth busy – but the look in his eyes and the subtle raise of his eyebrow are enough of a response for Jackson. Jackson swallows and wets his lips, his mouth suddenly gone dry. His nipples are hard now, and his dick’s starting to get hard in his sweatpants, too. He wants to be touched so badly, but he doesn’t want Jinyoung to stop with his mouth. He wants it all, wants everything, wants – too much, probably.

And he’s getting it, even if Jinyoung’s going about giving it to him so _slowly._ Still, with how attentive he’s being, Jackson doesn’t feel like he can complain. Everything Jinyoung’s doing feels good: every flick of tongue and press of lips, every single kiss he layers onto Jackson’s skin. He’s kissing Jackson’s stomach now, speaking every so often as he does, his voice soft. Words like _gorgeous_ and _beautiful,_ things that make Jackson’s heart twinge in his chest. He feels it. When Jinyoung tells him those things, Jackson believes it.

Finally, after what feels like forever and yet simultaneously like nowhere near enough time at all, Jinyoung’s mouth is down under Jackson’s bellybutton, his fingers splayed out just above the waistband of Jackson’s sweatpants, fingertips pressing down on Jackson’s hips like he’s trying to keep Jackson pinned to the bed. Not that Jackson would try and move when Jinyoung’s got him like this. The most he does is reach down in an attempt to touch himself, just to get things moving along a bit faster, but Jinyoung gently slaps his hand away.

“Be patient,” he says, but almost immediately, he’s tugging the pants down the best he can while Jackson’s still lying back on the bed. Jackson lifts his hips, propping himself up on his elbows so his sweatpants can come off, and they do, leaving him in underwear. He can’t help the shiver as the soft fabric brushes down his legs, and even with the pants gone now, he still feels that same sensation thanks to the way Jinyoung’s looking at him. He likes it, likes feeling like he’s the centre of attention even if it’s only to one person (or, _especially_ because it’s to the most important person), but at the same time, it isn’t fair at all.

“Come on.” Jackson nods at Jinyoung. “Now you.”

“If you insist,” says Jinyoung, and he gets rid of his own shirt, his own pants. Everything. He even pulls his underwear down, and Jackson’s eyes immediately travel down Jinyoung’s body to his cock, to where he’s starting to get hard. Jinyoung notices and gives himself a jerk, the movement sharp. Fuck, Jackson wants him. Wants Jinyoung’s cock, wants Jinyoung to touch him like that. Whatever, he doesn’t care. He just wants Jinyoung.

And Jackson gets it when Jinyoung practically pounces on him again, but when Jinyoung actually starts to make a move, he takes his time. Of _course_ he takes his time, brushing his knuckles down the length of Jackson’s cock over the fabric, only starting to edge Jackson’s boxer briefs down when Jackson tries to reach out again.

When they’re finally off and Jackson’s completely naked, he hears Jinyoung exhale, sees the subtle drag of his tongue over his lips. Jinyoung leans in, touches his mouth to Jackson’s inner thigh, and though it feels good, just as good as everything that came before it, Jackson can’t help but frown at the fact that Jinyoung’s not paying any attention to his cock.

“Hey.” Jackson taps at Jinyoung’s side with a foot. “You’re not gonna suck me off?”

“If I did,” Jinyoung says, the words slightly muffled when he leans in to press another kiss to Jackson’s thigh, “how would I be able to tell you how much I love you? How great you are?” Another kiss on the other thigh now, his lips warm and the pressure gentle. “I wouldn’t. And I want to. Want to make sure you know.”

“Fine,” says Jackson, unable to help letting his smile widen. “Just touch me, then. And, you know. Tell me how much you love me.” He can’t lie: he’d like to hear it.

“Of course.” Jinyoung smiles back up at him, the kind of fond that Jackson doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to no matter how often he sees it. A warm hand wraps around Jackson’s dick and Jinyoung just holds him still, not moving his eyes from Jackson’s. The next time he speaks, his voice is quieter. More – significant sounding, somehow. “Of course.”

And with that, he drags his closed fist down the length of Jackson’s cock, from the base to the tip. His grip is firm and comfortable, the perfect kind of almost-but-not-quite tight, and Jackson gasps, hardening even more at the touch.

“Yeah?” Jinyoung teases, that fond smile turning into something more like a smirk, and Jackson nods.

“Yeah,” he says. It feels good, and he can’t fault that. Can’t fault Jinyoung for being concerned about him – especially if this is the result. “But maybe…”

He’s barely even started his sentence when Jinyoung’s hand is gone and he’s spitting into his palm before getting it back on Jackson. He’s like some kind of mind reader this evening, somehow always knowing what Jackson needs. A guy really could get used to this, Jackson thinks.

“Better?” Jinyoung asks. This time when he moves his hand on Jackson, it’s smoother, easier. Not quite a slide, not yet, but on its way there. Definitely better.

“Yeah,” Jackson repeats. It’s difficult to resist rocking his hips forward a little, trying to press himself into Jinyoung’s hand some more. Jinyoung’s hand tightens as he does, like he’s trying to stop Jackson from moving.

“Stay still.” Jinyoung squeezes. It’s not as hard as he might sometimes go for, but it’s enough of a departure from how he was touching Jackson a moment ago that it’s noticeable. “Just let me.”

Jackson complies. He relaxes his body when Jinyoung’s hand loosens on his cock, sighing at the next stroke down the length, and then another and another. The rhythm Jinyoung gets going is slow but even, soothing. It’s like he wants Jackson to match his breathing to it, so Jackson tries to, in and out and in and out again in time with Jinyoung’s hand. Jinyoung’s other hand rests on Jackson’s thigh, fingers steady as his thumb traces circles over the skin. It’s perfect. It’s perfect, and all it is is Jinyoung’s hands. Not his mouth, not his cock. Just his touch, one hand gentle and the other firmer, both of them slow. He glances up again, looks up at Jackson through his lashes, the eye contact startling.

“Come on.” Jackson moves his hips forward again. “You said you’d talk to me. Tell me–” He looks away, looks up at the ceiling. “How much you love me.”

Jinyoung smiles to himself.

“I did say that.” Another jerk of Jackson’s cock, measured and precise, a little harder than before.

“Go on, then. Tell me.”

“Mm.” That slow rhythm starts back up again, Jackson fully hard under Jinyoung’s hand. “Where do I even begin with that?”

“You’re good with words.” Jackson can hear his voice starting to get ever so slightly raspier as Jinyoung touches him. “You’ll figure it out.”

“You,” Jinyoung starts to say, “are so much. To so many people. So loved.”

“Let’s hear about what I am to you, though. Seeing as you’re the person I wanna think about when I’m – you know.” Jackson gestures down at his dick, at Jinyoung’s hand wrapped around it.

“When you’re hard and naked and in the process of getting off?” Jinyoung’s eyes glimmer with a smirk and Jackson nods. There’s a pause – a few more strokes; Jackson still tries to breathe in time with them – and then Jinyoung speaks again. “It feels like such a privilege to get to have this. To have you. To have you want me in return. To see you like this, to get to touch you like this.”

“Could say the same thing about you.”

“But this isn’t about me,” Jinyoung says before Jackson can carry on, even though Jackson definitely could. “Not tonight. Tonight is _you._ How much I want _you.”_

“Oh yeah?”

“Narcissist.” Jinyoung rolls his eyes, but his tone is playful, and he doesn’t let up on Jackson’s cock. “Fucking you… how can I even say how good that is? How good you are for me? How good you make me feel?”

Even just the thought of that – Jinyoung inside him, Jinyoung’s cock in deep whether Jackson’s on his back or on hands and knees or straddling Jinyoung – has Jackson moaning. Of course it’s mostly from Jinyoung’s hand on him, but Jinyoung’s words – they enhance it. They always make it better.

“And you make me feel good like that too.” Now that he’s thinking about it, Jackson can’t help but express it. He doesn’t care that Jinyoung isn’t going to fuck him tonight, but the thought of it – god. The thought of it has him even harder, he swears it. “So fucking good, Jinyoung-ah.”

“I should hope so.” Jinyoung’s grip tightens and his hand speeds up a little. The change makes Jackson groan again, and _that_ makes Jinyoung actually smirk. “Yeah, that’s it. Let me hear you.”

At that, Jackson really can’t help but let it out. If Jinyoung wants to hear him, Jackson will let him. Jackson will give him everything.

“Fuck,” he pants out, the noise that follows the word choked and desperate and so close to sounding vulnerable, though he really can’t care. Not with Jinyoung.

From his place between Jackson’s legs, Jinyoung hums, satisfied. He’s close enough to Jackson’s dick that Jackson can feel his hot breath against the tip, and it makes him shiver – makes him groan again when for a moment, Jinyoung licks at the head, tongue slick and warm and welcome.

“I love having you like this.” Jinyoung’s still so near, his voice so low. “All mine to touch.”

“All yours,” Jackson echoes back, and it makes him feel – safe. Secure in how Jinyoung feels about him, in the fact that someone loves him, in the fact that someone wants good things for him. He isn’t even moving his hips anymore, trying to stay as still as possible for Jinyoung instead so the only thing giving him any pleasure is Jinyoung’s hand around him. It’s all Jinyoung, and Jackson’s all Jinyoung’s. “Jinyoungie–”

“Hm? Are you close?”

“Getting there.” Jackson’s answer is honest: he can feel it building, the slide of Jinyoung’s hand eased even more by the precome leaking from his cock. He reaches down to where Jinyoung’s other hand is still resting on his thigh, covering it with his own hand until Jinyoung gets the hint and links their fingers together. Jinyoung squeezes and Jackson squeezes back harder. “God, that’s – good, that’s so good, shit.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” Jackson nods, his hand shaking in Jinyoung’s, his thighs trembling against the sheets. How is Jinyoung so good with his hands? How is this something that Jackson gets to have on a regular basis? “Oh, fuck _please–”_

“No need to say please,” Jinyoung interrupts. That cocky smile’s on his face again, something in it that has Jackson unravelling just that bit faster. “I’m already giving you everything you want.”

He is, he is, he is. Jackson just nods some more, helpless to do anything other than agree. Everything that comes out of his mouth at this point is noise rather than words, but Jinyoung doesn’t seem to mind.

“There you go,” Jinyoung continues, soothing. “You’re so hot like this, so hard for me. Love you like this. Love you so much, Jackson-ah. So, so, so much.” His words seem to go straight to Jackson’s cock. To his heart, too, but when the main thing on his mind is how good Jinyoung’s making him feel, when his orgasm’s approaching more rapidly with every second that passes, it’s mostly to his dick. “Are you gonna come for me? Nice and hard, nice and loud. Make you feel even better than before. Come on, come for me.”

From there, it barely takes anything. Jackson’s so close, almost unbearably hard: it only takes a few more strokes of Jinyoung’s hand, and Jackson’s _there,_ where everything feels like it’s dissolving. He’s clutching at Jinyoung so hard that it has to be painful for him, but Jinyoung doesn’t seem to care. He’s looking at Jackson like he’s all that matters, him and his needs and his pleasure. Jackson swears he’s melting under Jinyoung’s gaze, that he’ll just be an incoherent mess on the mattress when they’re done. His come shoots across his stomach and his shoulders slacken, eyes fluttering shut for a moment and then refocusing on Jinyoung.

“There.” Jinyoung drops Jackson’s cock, but doesn’t let go of his hand. He smiles, and it’s so easy to return the grin, to mirror it right back at him. “My turn now?”

Of course it is. Jackson sits up some more and holds his arm out, inviting Jinyoung in. Jinyoung moves closer, a little awkward because he’s refusing to let go of Jackson. Still, Jackson gets his other hand on Jinyoung’s cock – fuck, he’s so _hard,_ all from touching Jackson, from making him come – and starts to return the favour.

At the first touch, Jinyoung shudders, his breath catching. He isn’t as loud as Jackson is, but hearing him, being the one to get him to make these noises is still always so rewarding. Jackson savours every single sound that comes out: every moan, every gasp. Every word, even if it’s just his name. He moves his hand a little faster, and Jinyoung encourages it with a nod and a lick of his lips.

“That’s it,” he says. “Mm, you know me so well. Know exactly what I like.” This time, it’s Jinyoung’s hand that shakes. Jackson holds on, even as their palms sweat. He wants to be able to give Jinyoung exactly what Jinyoung gave him. Wants to give Jinyoung what he deserves for being there for him, for putting up with him all the time. Wants to give Jinyoung everything.

Jackson lets his eyes skim down Jinyoung’s body, lets himself take everything in. The flush of Jinyoung’s skin, the shine of his mouth. His hard cock, the precome leaking from the tip. And then, when Jackson glances back up, Jinyoung’s _eyes._ Dark and raw and sparkling, looking right back at him. Another smile stretches across his face, something so warm, something so impossibly bright. Something that Jackson never wants to stop seeing.

“Love you,” Jackson says, echoing Jinyoung’s words from earlier back at him. “Fuck, Jinyoung. You look so good.”

“I _feel_ so good,” says Jinyoung, and he’s still blinding Jackson with his smile. Jackson wants to taste it, wishes that Jinyoung was close enough to kiss. Instead, he just settles for jerking Jinyoung off, hand working hard and fast until Jinyoung’s gone, moaning Jackson’s name, coming over his hand. “So good,” Jinyoung repeats. “You’re so good.”

“I try,” Jackson tells him, and he lets go of Jinyoung’s dick. Their hands are still joined. Jackson pulls Jinyoung’s towards him, trying to get Jinyoung to come closer. “Here.”

Jinyoung does. When he’s near enough, he tilts Jackson’s face up to kiss him and Jackson accepts easily. He lets Jinyoung cradle his face and stroke through his hair. Lets Jinyoung’s body press up against his.

“I said this before,” Jinyoung says, their mouths barely millimetres apart, “but you are so, so loved. I know you don’t like looking at comments anymore, I know you don’t want to see the bad things. But that means you don’t see the good things, either. And there _are_ good things. Because there are people who love you.”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, looking away, mildly embarrassed. He knows it’s true, though. Knows that there are people he means a lot to, for whatever reason. “I guess.”

“And that’s just fans. That’s not even thinking about your friends, your family, the rest of the members… me.”

“You.” Jackson takes up Jinyoung’s other hand as well. For a moment, they just look at each other, and then – “Thanks, Jinyoungie. Always.”

“It’s not a problem,” Jinyoung says, squeezing both of Jackson’s hands, and Jackson feels like – like he’s not a problem, either. “And neither are you.”

Jinyoung’s words confirm it; Jackson squeezes his hands back. They should move, probably – should take a shower and go to bed for real (no way is Jackson going to sleep with come drying on his stomach) – but for now, they just stay still, hand in hand and hand in hand, and like this, Jackson knows he’s wanted, knows that Jinyoung cares about him. Knows he’s loved.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading, everyone!! you can find me on tumblr @ vibetechs and now also on twitter @gotsevenses


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